


sunset blue and steel grey

by homodeus97



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: BAMF Sansa Stark, F/M, Gen, House Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24606907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homodeus97/pseuds/homodeus97
Summary: most people often forget she is a stark of winterfellher eyes remind them
Relationships: Joffrey Baratheon/Sansa Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Ned Stark & Sansa Stark, Ramsay Bolton/Sansa Stark
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	1. brandon

**Eddard Stark**

Sansa had been preparing a beautiful gown of blue with myrish lace and inlaid mother-of-pearls for almost 4 moons now. She had painstakingly sewed designs of weirwood trees and wolves running around the hem of her skirt even though the needle pricked her fingers a thousand times and she's proud, very proud in fact, since it's a huge achievement for a _8 year old_.

It's the Harvest Festival in two days and everyone from Septa Mordane to her Mother have congratulated her on a work well done. Well, everyone except Arya. All she said was that it looked stupid. _Which is wrong!_ It looks amazing and Sansa knows. She doesn't need her _wretched_ sister's acknowledgement!

So everything is perfect right?

In the end, it's not.

Arya splattered mud right _smack in the middle_ of the skirt and Sansa cannot contain her screams. She tries washing it off with lemon and salt but it still leaves a light brown stain. She cries to her mother and of course, Mother scolds Arya until her ears her ringing and _even_ Father, who is more indulgent towards Arya, gives her a stern, disappointed face. Eventually Arya does ask for forgiveness but Sansa bites back calling her Horse-face.

She is already stressed. Now she has no choice but to wear one of her old, more unused gowns. Sansa pulls out a grey one with red weirwood leaves on the arms and she is not appeased, she's still angry. 

The Harvest Festival starts off with a bang, everyone is having a jolly good time but Sansa is stands in a corner, sulking. Wylla Manderly is wearing a new sea-foam green gown, Alys Karstark is wearing a beautiful gown with suns peaking from the sides of her gown and Sansa is _frothing_ with jealousy. 

She can see Arya and Robb stuffing their faces with the various food brought from different parts of the North: Boar, goose-in-berries, salmon, lobster and so much more so Sansa's anger wanes, it is a very joyful time and she realizes that she should just forget the whole thing happened. _Forgive and Forget_ , that's the policy she keeps repeating to herself as she approaches them. 

And what does she hear? 

Robb and Arya _snickering_ about how _red_ her face turned when she saw Eddara Tallhart's gown, almost similar to her's except Eddara's had green sentinel trees instead of red weirwood leaves. Her anger bursts out and she's almost nearing them, she wants to smack Stupid Arya and scold her favorite brother silly. 

She hears a voice clearing behind her, but she continues walking and yet again, the same sound. Sansa spins around, ready to admonish that person, and who is it?

It's Benfred Tallhart, Eddara's brother. He is clearly tipsy, she can see that. His eyes are sparkling and he's swaying while he is blabbering something-

"__ so my Lady, would you do me the favor of dancing with me? " and Sansa, _dutiful and polite_ Sansa just says, "Not right now, my good ser. My apologies".

Benfred gapes. 

That audacious boy, stares at her like she is the Night King come to kill him and _yet_ , he continues, "Come on my Lady, one dance!" 

Sansa Stark, a wolf of Winterfell, snarls. 

"I've already said no, _Benfred._ Just leave me alone!" 

For a split second, Sansa feels powerful. Then it all comes crashing down. 

Robb turns around and grabs her hands pulling her away from that _atrocious_ scene, apologizing to Benfred and- Arya, that little beast is laughing uproariously. Her Lord Father, is in the High Table but still, he heard the whole showdown and Sansa- Sansa feels like a fool. Of course, everything is resolved as quickly as possible, Sansa apologizing to Benfred, her Father apologizing to Helman Tallhart and offering to foster Benfred for a year or so. 

She gets severely scolded. Her Mother is shocked, her Father is disappointed but his mind seems far away.

And when Eddard retires to bed, he remembers his brother, Brandon's eyes:

(steel grey, the color of Ice, House Stark's ancestral Valyrian Steel )

flashing in anger when something doesn't go his way. 

Sansa's eyes, lovely sunset blue, just like Cat's 

(any man could drown in them)

flashing in steel grey. 

Eddard smiles. 


	2. lyanna

**Robert Baratheon**

The taste of cider that Joff and her drank was still stuck in her mouth and it was spectacular. Everything looked almost _magical_. The smell of the Trident and flowers blooming beside it was such a cinematic view and Sansa just completed the picture with her cool blue, snowflake patterned gown, hair unbound and smiling eyes. Joffrey Baratheon is _everything_ she ever wanted her prince to be like: tall, strong and handsome.

Sansa was sure they made a beautiful picture: A golden haired Prince with his lady love, a red haired beauty on their galloping horses. 

Joffrey is telling her all about the splendors of King's Landing, everything from daily court sessions to the tourneys that his father arranges. As the topic switches to King Robert, he starts getting excited, his eyes filled with _manic_ happiness, his mouth twisted into a sneer. 

"Come my lady, I'll show you where my father killed that Targaryen scum. Young Dragon, _pah!_ With one swing of my father's hammer, he fell. My father went to war for his lady love, your aunt, Lyanna. And here we are, a Stark and a Baratheon, soon to be joined." 

Sansa might've just swooned, lost in his lovely green eyes, sparkling like _emeralds_ but that's when she heard a noise. More specifically, Arya's "Hyah!".

That 'Hyah' means that she was sword fighting, and what is _wrong_ with that insipid girl! Her Prince would get angry! 

In a nearby clearing, they find a fat young boy and Arya playing with sticks, acting like they are knights in a melee. The boy is clearly winning and wait, is that _Mycah?_ Joffrey laughs and begins to taunt Mycah challenging him to a fight, sword against stick. Sansa however, is still in a shock that Arya was playing with the _butcher's_ boy. 

She hears Mycah's blubber insisting that _Arya_ was the one asking him to fight her. Arya is nodding her head casually and the atmosphere seems too tense. Sansa hears herself calling Joffrey to leave - 'those heathens be, let us go somewhere else' but he remains oblivious. _Sweet_ Joff, goes on to prick the boy's cheek with Lion's Tooth and -- "shut up Arya, he's not being cruel, he's defending your honor!"

"I don't need his stupid defending Sansa, _you_ shut up!"

Without warning, Arya breaks her stick over the back of Joffrey's head and Sansa wants to _cry!_ What in seven hells is happening? Ignoring her screams for them to stop, Arya throws a rock and hits Joffrey's horse, driving it away.

It is all chaos from there.

The Crown Prince chases Arya with his sword, flailing around until she is backed up against a tree. Sansa thinks her heart might jump out from her chest, yes she doesn't like Arya _that_ much but she is still her sister! Out of nowhere, Nymeria appears, savaging Joffrey's sword arm and forcing him to drop his sword. 

There's blood everywhere, _royal_ blood to be specific and Sansa starts imagining how the King might kill them all.

With a swing of his hammer perhaps.

Arya calls Nymeria off, picks up Lion's Tooth and throws it into the Trident. Sansa can hear Joffrey's whimpers and pleas to not hurt him, while Arya, that _insensitive_ little wretch runs off. 

Sansa goes to help Joffrey tenderly, but he snarls at her to leave and not touch him.

All she can see is the contempt in his eyes. What did he call Arya when he was chasing her? Wolf Bitch? Is that what he is going to call her now? 

\-- --

Sansa cannot hear anything. There is a consistent ring in her ears and she is shivering. She is standing in the corner of the castle but she can still hear the booming voice of the King. She doesn't think she can control her sobs any longer.

Her father goes on to remind the king that she was also present and has her brought in to testify.

The first person Sansa looks at is her father, who's eyes are clear and frowning, the second person Sansa looks at is Joffrey, who smiles at her widely and all she can remember is how _charming_ he was when he compared her aunt and her with him and his father.

They cannot do this to her! She is torn between her _family_ and her _love_! 

Before she could finish her sentence of claiming that she didn't remember, Arya lunges at her like some kind of shadow-cat.

"Liar, Liar, you're _lying!_ Stop lying! Joffrey was the one to--"

She can see King Robert rolling his eyes getting even more exasperated. He orders her father to discipline Arya-- yes yes that is needed--

However, Queen Cersei demands that Nymeria be killed but she ran away.

Anytime now, this trial is going to be over. 

"Use the other wolf then! They are all the same anyways. The fur would be nice." 

She can hear her father protesting but King Robert only responds that 'Oh Ned, a direwolf is not a pet and that the girl would be happier with a dog'. 

Joffrey is smiling cruelly and stupid Sansa finally realizes that they are talking about _her_ Lady.

Sansa hears a mournful wail, and oh- it's her, she's the one wailing. Her eyes are red and she cannot stop crying. Tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down her face. She can feel the muscles of her chin tremble like a small child's and everything seems so blurry-- she tries to blink through the tears but her lashes are too drenched. 

She can hear her father insist on executing Lady himself but the king only walks away.

Sansa faints, Arya runs and the Queen is smirking. 

Later that night, Robert thinks, is that how Lyanna cried? When Rhaegar _snatched_ her away? Pearl-shaped tears rolling down her pink cheeks from her wide luminous eyes? He wants to kill that Dragon Cunt all over again. That was the last time he felt alive.

When Lya died, he died along with her. 

The small one may look and act like Lyanna but the elder one reminds him of Lya's tender heart. He recalls her having blue eyes but when she cries, it turns into the most beautiful dove-grey.

Just like Lyanna's. 

It echoes through his mind all night long. 


	3. rickard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a few graphic scenes and gory description here and there!

**Roose Bolton**

How long has she been on bent knees and arched backs? How many times has she cried feverishly as her fingers twitched against her out grown southern silk or wool-worn northern chemise? Hasn't she felt _enough_? Her life blood spilling through either the cracks of her back or the flayed skin on her calves. Her golden prince and her burly northern husband.

Her worst demons.

Sansa is back home, in Winterfell where the snow is harsh and cruel, biting into faces and turning lips blue and numb but it doesn't feel like home. The flayed men have destroyed her haven and laid waste to it. So many people have betrayed her, everyone from a Queen to a cheating whore monger to a lowly hostage. Every night, she tastes salt and blood in the back of her throat as her _sweet_ husband rips his way into her and carves another "R" underneath her breasts, one day or another, he might just carve her bone off. 

At the beginning she foolishly believed that she would grow to love Ramsay as her mother did for Father. He was a bastard true, more ugly than Sandor, with his bulging dirty grey eyes, pasty, ugly skin and wormy wide lips just like Joff's.

(Maybe all cruel bastards have those kind of lips as a warning from the Gods)

But now Sansa the Resilient ( _foolish, weak girl!_ ) knows that there is no way in Seven Hells she would grow to love her bastard of a husband. She vows though, as his garnet cut blood drop earring swings before her eyes, that she will kill him and end his wretched house. 

\-- --

Everything the Boltons touch becomes toxic. Winterfell, _Robb's birthright_ , should've been such a crystalline joy, a brilliant white with the soft glow of rays that show the uniqueness of every snowflake. Instead with Roose Bolton's reign, it is a dreary wasteland, barren and lifeless. As she wanders around Robb's neglected garden, Walda Bolton comes waddling over. 

"Sweet daughter, we will be having a grand feast tonight! My husband and I have some very special news to share! Ramsay would be so delighted to have another sibl- oh! It's a surprise, I shall not reveal it now" 

"Of course my Lady ( _oh darling, call me Mother_ ), I shall inform my husband. There is some subtle change in you Mother, you seem almost- glowing!"

"Oh you naughty girl! I'll reveal it later" Walda tittered. 

A gritty, oily smile ( _very similar to Littlefinger when he starts scheming_ ) distorts her beautiful face.

The wolves will return. 

\-- --

Breath pale against the numbing air, she blinked thoughtfully, patiently, calculatingly as the frost patiently kissed her face, captivated by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavy on her eyelashes. She had always adored the snow, more than Robb or Arya who were frequent winners in the snow fight they used to play. He's close, she wrinkled her nose and faced upwards. The sight of him made her sick from the ends of her flaming hair to the polished nails on her toes. 

"Sansa my sweet, wish me luck! I will be warring against Stannis in open battle to show him how Southerners crack under the North's sharp blades. Just your lord husband and twenty good men, that's all it takes to bury a pretender king. With my army, I will destroy his supplies and breaks the morale of his army. My hounds will feast on his bulging stomach as the snow slowly turns pink. Sansa, did you know that his flesh would still cling to his organs in raw shreds due to my darling hound's sharp teeth? Oh sweetling, don't cry! But remember wife, when I come back, I expect a trueborn son, a heir to the Bolton line. Or else there might just be a wake for my beloved wife who was accidentally mauled by my hounds. Understood? Oh well, before our son, I would be the heir to Winterf-"

White knuckles from clenching her fist too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Sansa's hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. Her face was blotching up with suppressed rage, and she snapped:

"No. You will not be the heir, you are a bastard. Walda Frey's son will be the heir"

"I have been naturalized by a royal decree by-"

"Tommen Baratheon? Another bastard, son of a brother-fucker." 

_(She has been planning this last line for quite some time really, it gives a spectacular punch right in the guts._

_It has been a long winded process, this game of hers._

_Every evening during dinner, commenting on Walda's "glow" and making tinctures that would make labor "painless Mother, you must try it!", asking inconspicuous questions like what his father might name his trueborn son and whether he would have black hair like his father "unlike you my Lord, you have brown hair, you must have got it from your mother hmm"_

_Ramsay's red ugly flush high on his cheekbones and clipped sentences punching into the air just proved her point._

_She has won)_

"Reek, bring my wife to her chambers, I think she needs another lesson." 

\-- --

"Son, your command of the cavalry was impressive, thanks to you the false king is dead. A great victory, it will be etched on history tomes for years to come but boy, do you feel like a victor? Your wife has escaped. Without Sansa Stark, the northern lords will not accept out reign of Winterfell. You lost her."

"I have a team of my best men and sharpest hounds, she won't get far-"

"Good because without her, you won't have an heir, and without an heir...well, the maesters just announced that Lady Walda is carrying a boy."

The clank of Ramsay's teeth and the widening of his eyes is unmistakable. Dread creeps over him like an icy chill, numbing his brain, he can almost imagine Sansa's mocking laugh. That bitch. She set me up...but she's not wrong. She said this would happen. My own father, Roose Bolton, preferring an ugly half southern Frey son over me. His father's decision would haunt him in ways he cannot never explain, never shake. He would be the miller's wife's bastard again. No, no that can't happen. Oh it must happen. Poor father. 

\-- --

"You will always be my first born son Ramsay, Walda has given birth to my son and we have decided to name him Rogar after the last Red King, you may visit my son later but there will be guards aroun-" Roose had not given a lot of thoughts on how he would die. The blood didn't gush in a constant flow, but in time with the beating of his heart. At first it came thick and strong, flowing through his fingers as they clasped the ripped flesh. He felt the blood move over his hand, the thick fluid no warmer or cooler than his own skin. After a few moments more the blood was still leaving his rapidly paling flesh, but the pulses were slower, weaker. His insipid bastard started blathering- 

"It had to be to be done Father, you were going to throw me away, a perfectly capable son for your fat bitch's whelp, she told me, she was right you see, my highborn cunt wife, she predicted this, she knew you were going to chase me out and give this castle to your drooling son, she was right, I wouldn't have done it if I was your heir Father, you know me, I respect you beyond anythi-" 

Sansa Stark? Oh Ramsay, foolish boy, you idiot! She has her Grandfather's eyes and his cunning mind. That man arranged the topple of the Targaryen Dynasty with connections from various houses in Westeros. He was one of the main masterminds, oh you fool, Rickard Stark's deep-set eyes would make a grown man piss! Did you not see the glint in her smoke grey eyes? She is a wolf oh god, why do I see black? Domeric? My boy? Is that you? 

All Ramsay heard was his father's guttural chokes mixed with an agonized roar.

Hounds it is then, his beautiful wife will die a horrible death. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys, sorry it took so long! this mini fic is pretty much complete, i might just add an epilogue about my sweet bby sansa becoming queen! thank you for reading and kudo-ing my fic! all love <3


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